Miss
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: It's not every year you get to wrestle on the grandest stage in the world. Unless you're Triple H. Except, you know, that one time. - One-shot.


Steph had been babying him since it happened. She was naturally overly attentive towards her husband, but since he blew his quad, the woman had only become even more overbearing. She was in more contact with his doctors and physical therapist than he was, taking it upon herself to discuss with his dietitian just what his meal plan would look like for the foreseeable future. She was up his ass constantly about what his plans were for the day, making sure that he was getting enough sleep, was the baby bothering him? If the baby was bothering him, she could just deal with her on her own. Did it get on his nerves when the dog insisted on sitting at his feet and chewing on his loudest squeaky toy? Because Steph could take it from him. Seriously, Bluto would let her take it right out of his mouth, no aggression about it at all.

Not that this wasn't appreciated at times. Because yeah, Bluto was a bit of an asshole and seemed to know when Paul was stretching out on the couch for a nap, which for some reason set off in his brain that hey, I should play with my loudest toys right now because my father would just _love_ that, right? And yeah, sometimes his baby too could be a jerk. Not purposely, like freaking Bluto, but still, it was very annoying for her to wait until after he left the room to start whining for something. To let him drift off on the couch, with her supposed to be doing the same on his chest, but instead deciding she should chew with her very sharp baby teeth on his finger and dang!

Having a kid and dog was rough.

Neither of those, however, gave Steph the right to be so involved in the medical side of his injury. He was expecting it, obviously, as she was always in his business (especially when he was hurt), but this was such a big sideline that his frustrations over it bled into the ones he was usually able to suppress when it came to his wife's obsession.

Him.

He was her obsession.

Among other things. Well, one thing. She was very into the company as well. If it came down to him or the business, well, Paul was just kinda glad it had never truly come to that. Still though, of all the things Steph spent her day thinking about, he was always one of the main things. It was cute and endearing back when they first started dating. After being married for nearly three years? It was more something he was mostly just used to and tried to ignore.

"Okay, so did you want it in standard or high definition?"

"Do I want what?" the man complained as his wife came down to ruin the sanctity of his personal gym time with what he was certain would be absolute nonsense. He tried to keep the bite out of his voice as she turned off the stereo system down there as well. "Steph?"

"You know, HD."

"On what?"

"When I order you Wrestlemania, silly."

She'd come to stand before the bench he was seated upon, her faithful dog following along behind and their eight month old cuddled in one arm.

Paul had actually gone down the basement to get away from the three of them.

Stephanie, his ever obsessive stalker- err, wife, had finished with work for that day and thought that meant that they should spend every remaining waking second together.

They shouldn't.

Aurora, his very precious baby that he cared for a whole bunch, was just being a complete brat that day. Crying and whining over nothing. More clingy to Steph. Which should have given him a free pass to go do whatever he wanted without her.

It did not.

Bluto, that damn purebred mutt of his, was just an asshole in general when Stephanie was home.

There was no rebuttal from the dog on such a claim either.

Even though his brace had just recently been taken off his leg and he was still unable to do any real lifting, sitting and lifting some weights was perfectly fine. And a good way to pass time.

He had a lot of time.

Previously, when he blew his quad, he was holed up in a hotel near the doctor who did the surgery, to get it checked on periodically and ease of connivance for rehab. As a married man with a less than one year old, this just wasn't an option. So he went home to be miserable.

Because that's what it was. A miserable existence.

It was lonely at the hotel, back then, and though it was different currently, things could still get pretty lonely. Paul was the type of guy that was used to working for the majority of his day and having little off time. Some people might enjoy a bit of a vacation from that, but he only saw it was monotony. Annoying, mind numbing monotony.

"I don't care," the man was sighing in that moment as he moved to rest the dumbbell on the floor. "Steph."

"It's a dumb question, I guess, but you get asked that now, you know, when you call to order it. Isn't that cool?"

She was grinning at him in that patronizing way she had all week which only made his sullen face darken even more.

"Anyways," Steph was going on as she still stood there, bouncing their child in her arms a bit when she began to wiggle, trying desperately to get down so that she could bother Bluto a bit. She loved bothering Bluto. "Did you wanna do something? You know, together? I know your leg isn't ready to take Bluto for a walk yet, but we could go in the backyard and-"

"I'm training."

"You've been down here for-"

"I'm busy."

And they stared at one another for a moment, her smile not so easy then. With a shrug, she turned to walk off.

"Then Rory and I will go play alone. With you too, huh, Bluto?"

As Steph passed him though, it seemed to occur for the first time to the baby that, hey, there was her father who she hadn't seen in a good hour or two. Which meant she had to let out a loud sound of distress, of course, and reach over for the man, forgetting all about her very real desire to, you know, bother Bluto.

Her mother had to take her over to her father then, to stop the baby''s complaints. And for as peeved by the whole thing he was, her father would never turn down his daughter when she was actually reaching for him.

Err, well, she was kind of reaching for him.

She was stretching a tiny hand out towards him, rather, for when he attempted to take her out of her mother's arms, the little girl resisted with a whine.

So through making a face, Paul gave her the best compromise she could ask for by reaching out to take her tiny hand in one of his own.

"That what you want?" he grumbled as Steph made a face down at their daughter as well, a bit put out. "Rora?"

Paul pressed a kiss to her hand as well, which got her to shriek and cuddle back into Stephanie. There. She was all good.

Stephanie was still pissed at him though. It was rather plain to see, for him at least, just from her back in the mirror as she disappeared, out of the gym, with his baby and her rotten mutt. The sight only made him sigh though before reaching once more for his dumbbell.

Dinner was awkward that night. Steph made it, but didn't call Paul to eat, so he kinda just stumbled upon the fact she was eating when he came in from what she called 'brooding' out on the back porch. He could have grumbled something about it, but he decided not to, only making himself a plate as well and going to join her at the table.

"The baby down?"

"Mmmhmm."

"You all packed for the weekend?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And you know when you're-"

"If you don't want to talk, Paul, then just don't talk."

Their exchange did little to relieve the tension in the room. Stephanie kept making faces at him and Paul was very concerned with ignoring them. Her tactic falling through, Steph took to sighing a lot before putting the rest of her dinner away, in the fridge, not saying a word to her husband as she subsequently left the room.

He didn't really feel like fixing things with Steph. At all. Because there really wasn't anything to fix. He didn't feel like himself, was peeved about the coming weekend, and mostly just wanted to be left alone. Which he would be, once his wife headed out for Detroit the following morning.

But…

What if something happened? To her?

They traveled a lot, the pair of them. All over the globe. Together some times, but separate a lot of the time. And yeah, Detroit wasn't that far away, but it was far enough. Something could happen on the plane. You could die in a tarmac on a plane. No matter the distance, it was still going up in the freaking air. Or even taking the plane out of the equation, a person could just trip and fall and wind up in a coma for the rest of their life. Or aneurysms. Now, he wasn't quite sure what they were or how they manifested, but he knew enough to know his wife could be there one minute and gone form him the next.

So Paul, of course, had to make up with Stephanie, as he was always forced to do before either one of them left for work, off to another part of the country. No fight could make him angry enough to think that wasn't important.

Only, when he got to their bedroom that night, it was to find Stephanie waiting up for him and with the same exact thought in mind. Which was great, as it saved him from having to actually muster up the words that might sound like an apology (yuck) because his oh so loving wife had some of her own.

She'd done nothing wrong. Not really. But it was just easier to allow her to believe that she had, which she seemed to, telling him about how she was a jerk for not giving him his space and she couldn't sleep before they at least spoke.

They did more than just speak though. She was going out of town, after all. How could he let his poor wife leave without paying her some special attention? Or at least allowing her to do give him some.

Paul's mind was elsewhere for most of it. Steph wasn't too into it either. It was just a mess, honestly. And when it was over, she was just there, above him and he kinda felt bad, but he mostly wanted to go to sleep.

"What's up with you tonight?"

"Nothing."

She'd gotten up and disappeared into the bathroom before, but was back now, to climb into bed.

"Clearly," she grumbled as she messed with the baby monitor on her nightstand, "something's wrong. Why deny it?"

"I'm just..."

"Just what?"

He didn't know. Or he did know, some of it, at least.

Paul knew that he was, deep down, discouraged with his slow progress. And annoyed, still, over the entire ordeal. He was upset with the fact that he was stuck at home when guys not half his caliber were getting to live his dream. No part of him didn't resent every single guy that was getting go out there and perform Sunday, at Wrestlemania.

But he wouldn't tell any of that to Stephanie.

Not when it was exactly what she wanted to hear.

So he said the only other thing rolling around in his head.

"I'm tired is all, Stephanie." He was lying facing away from her, but did turn his neck a bit so that he could glance behind himself at her. "Things have just been...bothersome, today."

"Bothersome," his wife repeated as she settled into bed. "Who says something like that? Bothersome."

And he shouldn't have done it. It was mean spirited. And just not a good idea in general. But still, the words were slipping out before he could help it.

"It's the word someone uses when they don't want to tell their wife how obnoxious she's been all day."

That got a pause.

But only a short one.

"Excuse me?"

Paul shifted uncomfortably, but still refused to glance back at her. "Nothing. Just-"

"Did you just call me obnoxious?"

"Stephanie-"

"What have I done that's so _obnoxious_ to you, Paul? Huh?"

"I don't know! Never mind. Just-"

"You're such an asshole."

That one made him scowl. "What'd you just say?"

Instead of repeating it, she said, "All I've done all week is try to make you comfortable, but you're acting like a big baby over all this-"

"I'm so sorry, Steph, that I'm pissed over-"

"Over me? You're pissed at me?"

"No! Over… You know what I'm pissed about."

"Yeah, Paul, I do, but I don't get why you have to take that out on me."

"i haven't taken anything out on you."

"All you've done for the past two days is ignore me and snap at me and pretend like suddenly it's such a crime for me to, you know, try and do things for you-"

"It's not you," Paul grumbled, letting out a long breath. 'And you know that."

"Why would I know that?'

"It's me, baby." He fell then, onto his back, so that he could turn his head and see her better. "I'm the problem. Not you. You know that. I'm...sorry."

Steph was making her pouting face, the one that looked close to tears, where her blue eyes were watery and her bottom lip was quivering. He wasn't so sure that she actually was close to this, as it usually took a bit to get real tears out of the woman, but it was also 'mania season and that left everyone in high stress.

When he reached out for her though, Steph skirted back away from him. Finding that far more annoying than any other thing she'd done so far that day, he rolled onto his side so that they could stare at one another.

"Look," he grumbled out, "I didn't mean that. I was joking."

"I know when you're joking. You weren't joking."

"You're not...obnoxious," he said slowly. "I shouldn't have said that. You're just… I can't get away from you recently, at all. Or from this house. Just… Even when you're gone, you're calling me or texting me and I-"

"I won't text you then. Is that what you want? All weekend. Have a great time by yourself."

"That's not what it's about."

"It's what you said it's about."

"Steph, I don't-"

"I'm leaving tomorrow and you can just be by yourself, so hooray for you, I guess." This got him rewarded with her back. "And I'm _so glad_ by the way that we had sex before you got this all off your chest."

"Yeah," he agreed in a rather snide way. "So am I."

Usually that would do the trick. Some sort of offhanded, rude or jerk statement would get Steph to giggle or call him an ass (but lovingly, in that context). She'd roll back over and they'd make up and that would be it.

But Steph said nothing and, with a sigh, Paul settled down to sleep.

For the night, it was done.

The rules still applied. Especially after a full on going to bed angry incident. Paul had to make up with Steph in some way before she left.

So he got up before her (which wasn't hard to do; she snoozed her alarm twice after getting stuck with a fussy baby that night) to go make her breakfast. He was actually just about to go and wake Steph up when she came down the stairs to find him.

"Are you already up, baby?" she cooed at Aurora, who was sitting in her high chair, waiting for her father to give her more than her sticking bottle. She wanted her eggs and was about ready to whine about it. Ignoring her husband, Steph keyed in on their daughter immediately, going over to give her kisses. "Good morning."

Neither she nor Paul spoke to each other as she went to get Bluto, who was stretched out on the cool tile floor, to go out to the back porch with her, as he certainly needed a bathroom break. While she was out there, Paul was able to first, of course, get his by then griping eight month old her eggs (she'd only been eating them for about a week, but they were already her favorite thing ever) as well as get Steph her plate with some toast and pour her a cup of coffee. He'd sat down only long enough to take a sip from his own mug when she came back.

"You made me breakfast?"

Paul wasn't saying shit. Not because he was mad, but because he refused to let himself have a chance as screwing things up again. Steph would be gone within two hours and all he had to do was get through that. He could manage it.

He did nod though and that got him a kiss to the cheek before Steph took her own seat.

Like the latter half of dinner, breakfast took place in silence.

Stephanie seemed to see them as, at the very least, somewhat made up. Or she didn't seemed so standoffish, at least. She got ready to leave without interacting with him much, but did come to hug and kiss goodbye before leaving.

"You're sure you can handle Aurora and Bluto for the weekend? On your own?'

"I'm not disabled, Steph."

"That's not what I said," she complained because, you know, he'd made the horrible mistake of speaking. Damn it. "I just wanted to be sure that you didn't want to be alone. Her nanny's already coming over today, while you go to your appointment, and she said I you want her to take Aurora for the weekend-"

"We'll be fine, Steph."

"And it's not too late for you to get a flight out to Detroit. You know you're more than welcome backstage."

"I don't want to sit backstage."

She gave him such a pitiful look then that it was impossible not to feel terrible for himself.

"'kay," Steph sighed after a breath. "It's your choice."

They were standing in their living room, to say their goodbyes. Aurora was on the floor on her blanket, happily chewing on some toys as Bluto sat beside her, a bit antsy. He'd long learned that a suitcase, but no leash meant one (or both) of his parents wouldn't be home for a day or two. He never really liked that.

Paul could tell he'd made things tense again and reached out for Steph. She didn't resist him as she had the night before and while they hugged, he squeezed her tightly.

"Text me when you land," he muttered softly.

"You said my texts are annoying."

Blinking, he released the woman so that they could stare one another in the eyes. He frowned as he said, "Steph-"

"Maybe I'll text you, maybe I won't."

"Don't be like that."

"I have to go."

She was the one to hug him that time, but it was quick as she wanted to go and tell their daughter goodbye. Her voice was a higher pitch and sounded much happier when it wasn't directed towards her husband. Paul only plopped back down on the couch, watching as the dog to got much more attention than he had.

"Love you," he made sure t say before she left. "Steph."

His first day Steph-free was actually pretty busy. The second the nanny got there around ten, he had to start getting ready to leave for a doctor's appointment. His brace had been off for a bit and they wanted to make sure everything was healing properly. Then there was training and getting some bills paid. After the nanny left for the day, he had to care for the baby and the dog was being his usual asshole self when his mother was out (because, admittedly, he could be a bit of a jerk to his father whether his mother was in the house or not).

The best time of the day when it was finally time to put the baby to bed and let the dog roam freely around the yard while he sat alone, in the living room, with only his music to keep him company.

It was then that he pulled out his phone and scrolled through the random messages he got throughout the day. Steph had texted him, back when he first left the doctor that day, but merely typed 'Landed' and nothing more. When he replied with information about his doctor's visit, he got no response and he'd decided to let her suffer for ignoring him.

Only, as he scrolled through some friendly texts and one from his sister, he didn't find Steph among them.

She really was cutting him off.

Huh.

Could she really do it? Could she really go all weekend without texting him?

Paul wanted to say he was impressed or intrigued or anything other than hurt, but he couldn't. It did hurt. It always hurt when this happened.

Because yes, it did happen.

Not too frequently. But sometimes Paul did lash out at his wife. It never had the desired outcome, of course, because deep down, he knew that he didn't desire any new outcome at all.

It was lonely, when Steph wasn't up his ass constantly, worried about things and talking nonstop about not her related topics, but him. Him, him, him. People thought that Paul was self-absorbed and they might just be right about that. Not in the way that they thought though.

He wanted to tell Stephanie about his day. It was how he decompressed. He wanted her to fret over his doctor's visit so that he could not be so worried about it. That was their thing. Their real thing. He'd pretend to accidentally let something worrisome slip and then let Steph lose it over it as he sat there rolling his eyes, acting uninterested in the whole thing.

Days where they were fighting or where he shoved her completely out, he had to worry about those things alone. He had to decompress alone. If he wanted to hear about how funny and attractive he was, he was gonna have to tell it to himself! Or, you know, cheat. Or something.

All of which were shitty in comparison to having Stephanie do them for him.

A person couldn't very well talk so much about himself, whether in his mind or with other people, without becoming conceited. Or seeming so. When Steph did it, yeah, he still sounded full of himself (perhaps, deep down, he could admit he was), but it still sounded better than when he was doing it on his own.

It wasn't like Steph and Paul had to be around one another constantly though. In any way, shape, or form. They could go days without truly speaking to one another. They had, before. Just not recently, was all. Even if they were on opposite sides of the world, someone was calling the other at least once in a twenty-four hour period, time zones be damned.

Plus, you'd think she'd ask about Aurora.

Yeah, that's where he decided to direct his anger.

Even if she was upset with him, you'd at least think that she'd call to check in on their daughter, wouldn't you?

Wouldn't you?

He would.

So Paul got himself all worked up over it. So worked up that it kinda shocked him when, you know, around eight that night as he was feeding the dog, his phone rang.

"What?" he grumbled into it, not checking the ID.

"Rude much?"

Oh.

Stephanie.

Of course.

"Anyways," she was saying as he stood there in the kitchen, Bluto's bowl in his hand and the poor dog sitting (somewhat) patiently by the usually adjoining water dish, ever the obedient boy. "I wanted to call and check on things."

Damn it. Leave it to Steph to rip his anger right out of him. When she wasn't even trying!

"Check on things," he repeated slowly. "Aren't you busy right now? Doing something?"

"I mean, it's late and I'm in my hotel room, so I really don't-"

"And why do you feel like you gotta 'check on things' anyways?"

There it was. Ha. He knew he could find a reason to stay mad at her.

Even if his original reasoning behind needing a reason in the first place was starting to fade…

Was he the one in the wrong that morning?

Aw, fuck it. What difference did that make? He'd had the afternoon to fester and now he was gonna wallow in it.

"Okay, so I'm busy with actual things here," he heard Steph say in that bitch tone she had. But he wasn't usually on the receiving end of that specific tone and it only agitated him more. "And have enough to worry about than you being an ass. So just tell me if my baby and dog are okay-"

"So you think they wouldn't be?"

"Paul, shut up."

"You shut up."

"I hate when you act like this."

"I'm not acting like anything," he griped back even though he knew this was a complete lie. Stephanie hadn't truly done anything to him, but damn was he going to try and make it seem that way. All just to maybe make himself feel better. Make himself feel worse? One or the other. "You're the one that called and-"

"I always call when I'm out, Paul, and you know it."

Well, he had no argument for that one. Which only meant he had to steer the conversation in another way.

"So you're not even going to ask about how my doctor's appointment went then? You don't care about that?"

"What is your problem?" He heard her shifting around in the bed then and kinda felt bad for adding stress to her already super stressful time (because there wasn't a 'mania that didn't keep itself shrouded in stress). "Paul? What did I do to you? Is this still about last night?"

That was a pretty key question, but even as the man in charge, he had no answer to it. He didn't know why he was acting the way that he was. Or at least why he was taking it to that level. Stephanie hadn't done anything to him that she usually didn't, but now she was being tried and convicted of it. Why? Nothing she'd done was wrong. A bit annoying, fine, but hardly that, really, for him.

"Aurora's fine," was his non response to his wife's question. "And so is the dog."

Actually, the dog was doing pretty shitty because he'd yet to be given his food and was growing antsy from not being released of his sit command, but that was splitting hairs, just a bit.

Unless you were Bluto.

For a moment, Steph was silent.

Paul was all ready for her to apologize to him (for nothing short of just not being perfect and knowing exactly what he wanted when he wanted even though he himself did not know this), but it didn't come.

That was the thing. Steph and Paul knew one another better than anyone else, but neither could predict every little thing about one another. Stephanie almost always caved to Paul when he was upset, but that was mainly because he was rare to become upset with her. He might raise his voice or argue with her over stupid shit sometimes (or even work shit), but the fights lasted mere minutes, at most an hour or two, and he was usually the one too go and hold her real close and explain that he was being a jerk and that he was sorry.

On the rare occasions this didn't happen and Steph could tell his anger was either well placed at her or that it was just all childish and she could, occasionally, be the bigger person, she'd cave to him. She'd apologize because she couldn't stand the thought of them being upset at one another for so long. That he might truly be angry with her. It probably stemmed from that obsessive stuff from before. Paul would mention it in jest and, of course, Stephanie wasn't _truly_ obsessed with him, but she was quite enraptured. And the woman that was a bitch to everyone and would outright refuse to admit her own faults at times (she was raised by only the greatest human to ever grace the planet, or so he self-asserted), just couldn't maintain that attitude around her husband.

Until that night.

"Tell them I love them then," was what he heard before the phone clicked.

He didn't have long to contemplate what Stephanie had said (or what she hadn't, rather) because Bluto was damn tired of waiting and had taken to whining and if he got too loud, his near howls would surely awaken Aurora. And Paul didn't want that.

Stephanie didn't call him back that night. He thought that she would, as it had to kick in eventually, right? That drive to please him? To stop them from fighting? Because his drive to please her and not fight with her was more than kicking in. He wanted to call her and tell her that he was being stupid and dumb and dang, Stephie, why even listen to him, huh?

But…

He didn't.

He wanted to. An awful lot. But he just didn't.

Instead he wen to bed lonely and feeling down.

The baby woke up early that Saturday morning, all ready for her eggs and bottle. She was giggly and happy and just all around great to be around. Till, you know, it hit her that Steph wasn't just catching a few extra winks and was, in fact, still not home and it was just her big hulk of a father and equally as hulk-esque, goofy dog there to look out for her.

She was not pleased.

Toys didn't calm her down, silly faces, music, talking to her, nothing.

She wanted her mother and would not be content until she saw her.

Her cries though eventually turned to fussiness and the fussing eventually dissolved into being tired and actually made things easier to get her down for her first nap of the day.

"You keep your filthy mutt mouth shut," Paul grumbled to Bluto who looked to be just itching to start barking. Reaching out to roughly pat his head in the way the massive beast liked so well, he added, "You stupid fuck."

It was around the baby's morning bottle that Steph texted to remind her husband of when Bluto's dog walker would be around. The text was concise and served to remind Paul that they were still fighting.

But he was tired of fighting.

Or at least in that moment he was.

He wanted to know what was going on in Detroit. Even though it would make him feel terrible about not being able to be there and left out and depressive, at least he'd know.

And it wasn't like he couldn't text someone else. Because he could. It was the day before, yeah, but at least one of the guys would answer him eventually. Or Shane would, no doubt.

But…

Paul wanted Steph.

Paul always wanted Steph.

The day seemed to drag on, but Paul at least got some training in and, though they were never too happy when their mother was away, he liked to think that Aurora and Bluto were pretty okay too.

That night though, it was hard to get the baby to go to sleep. She cried and whined through most of it. Paul was in the middle of some peace though and trying to relax in bed (before his daughter inevitably stared up again), halfheartedly flipping through a book, when he turned his head to the side to make a snide comment to Steph about the novel and realized she wasn't there.

And fine, it wasn't like she was dead or going to be gone for long, but fuck, he just wanted his wife then.

"I love you and I miss you and I'm sorry, baby. I'm an asshole."

So he called her.

"What? Paul, I'm at dinner."

At the worst moment.

Now, he was far from the blushing kind, so that certainly didn't happen, but Paul did shift a bit on the bed, uncomfortable to the highest degree.

Maybe immediately unleashing all your thoughts before the person even completely got out a hello wasn't the brightest of ideas…

"Oh." He swallowed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, I just-"

"Is that Hunter?" he heard a man in the background ask. He couldn't place it at the moment, but it was definitely one of the guys from work. "Ask him where his pansy ass is then?"

He heard some more jeers from some other guys before Steph spoke.

"Paul, I have to go."

"I was just-"

"I'll call you when I get home. Hotel. When I get to the hotel. Okay?"

Feeling foolish, he agreed and hung up. A long sigh followed as well as some ceiling staring at. Not much though because it was about then that Aurora started up over the baby monitor (she was so loud he hardly needed it) and he had to get up to deal with her.

She was not to be calmed down.

It wasn't that the eight month old didn't find her father comforting. Because she did. She liked snuggling with him and pulling at his hair and patting at his beard. All very comforting. His smell was good too. He smelled like… Well, he smelled like him and she like him and therefore she liked his smell.

But he wasn't her mother.

Honestly, Paul didn't hold this against her in the slightest.

He liked Steph better than himself too.

They were in the middle of a debate over whether or not she wanted her bottle (she did not; she wanted her mother and wished he'd stop shoving that stupid bottle in her face) when his cell started ringing from in his pocket.

"Hey, Steph," he answered over the sound of wailing. "You didn't have to leave dinner so early. I just-"

"Is that Rora?"

"Yeah," he sighed, still trying to bounce his daughter in one arm while holding his phone with his other hand. "She's kinda… Here, give me a sec."

Which is how he found himself in the rocking chair in the baby's nursery, her on one knee, his phone on the other with the speaker on, and Bluto seated at his feet. It took a bit for Aurora to truly calm down and hear her mother's voice, but once she did, she began to do that half cry, half looking around to see if anyone was noticing thing she did.

"I think she's waiting for you to come through the door."

"Poor baby," Steph cooed through the phone as, slowly, Aurora took to resting up against her father while sucking at her thumb. "You just miss me, huh? Did you want me to sing you back to sleep?"

Now, Steph wasn't a great singer. Or even a good one. But their daughter wasn't much for a critic and Paul was just glad to hear something other than the wails of his child, so they sat there, him rocking the chair gently, as Aurora listened to her mother as she took to nibbling on one of Paul's fingers.

"Is she sleeping?"

"Not yet," Paul yawned to his wife. "But just about."

"Aw."

"Stephie."

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry, baby."

There was a pause before she whispered, "Paul, you don't have to-"

"I just….I don't know."

"I am always in your business and you're always asking me not to be and I just want to take care of you, but… I know that I get on your nerves and that I'm too much sometimes and-"

"Steph, it wasn't about you."

"You don't have to just say that."

"I'm not. This had nothing to do with you, baby. It..." Glancing down at his little baby who felt his eyes and glanced up at him, his finger still in her mouth, all spitty and nasty. To his wife, he said, "It's me, Steph."

"What?"

"I'm… I'm mad, baby. That I can't be there tomorrow. That I can't be a part of this. That because my stupid quad blew, I can't… It's not fair."

"Paul-"

"There's about twenty dipshits that don't give half as much of a fuck abut the company that I do."

"You shouldn't-"

"I know that I've had more than my fair share of them. All of them, up to this point. Since I got here. But… I just hate it. And I'm gonna hate watching myself not be there. I'm not too old for this."

"Of course you're not."

"Then why does my body act like it?"

For a moment, both of them were silent. Aurora didn't like this apparently and spit his finger from her mouth just to make a noise, reminding her mother to keep talking before the tears started up again.

"It's okay, baby," Steph said. "Silly."

"It's her first 'mania too," he added then as, after a breath, he was feeling more cheeky than still upset. There, it was all off his chest. "And I'm not gonna be in it."

"Mmmm," Steph hummed as Aurora seemed to finally understand where her mother's voice was coming from and began reaching out for the cellphone. "You got something better though."

"What's that?"

"You get to watch her first one with her." Or at least while she slept, more than likely. "When will you ever get that chance again? At all?"

For a moment, he only sat there.

Then, softly, he whispered, "I never thought of it that way before."

"I know. But you should. Even I won't ever have that. I'll always be backstage and not be able to."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"You wanna watch Wrestlemania with your daddy?" Paul tickled her stomach gently then, to distract the eight month old from trying to grab his cell. "'cause I wanna watch it with you."

"Do you though?" Steph asked him. "Now?"

"I mean, I'd rather have a match, but… It just hurts, Steph."

"I know. I knew. Of course you feel that way. But every time I've ever tried to bring it up, you shut me down and say that it's just an injury and it happens."

"I know."

"You shouldn't let things fester."

"I know."

"Especially if you're going to blame me later for all that your feeling."

"You wanna know the truth?"

"What?"

"I'm always miserable when you're not up my ass about things."

"Okay, I let it go when you were mad, but the cursing has to stop."

"It's true though," he insisted. "All I wanted yesterday was for you to call and ask me about my doctor's appointment."

"Um, I tried to and you-"

"I know."

"Why?"

He thought for a second before saying, "I was mad that you didn't call earlier or return my text."

"Paul, I'm in Detroit, busy getting ready for our biggest night of the year-"

"I know."

"Then-"

"I can be needy sometimes too, Steph."

That pause was almost tangible.

"I didn't-"

"You're so cute, Paul."

"Shuddup."

"You wanna dish about our inner feelings? And connect on a deeper level?"

"Hate you."

"Women like emotional men, babe."

"I have the power to hang up on you."

"But you won't."

He wouldn't.

"But you're gonna have to."

Until she said that.

"How come? We boring you already?"

"Aurora needs to go back to bed," Stephanie informed him though she had no way of knowing that, in that moment, the baby was hardly keeping her eyes open. "And I have to go catch a shower and get ready for bed."

"Well-"

"I can call you again," she offered slowly. "After I'm in bed. If you want."

He was already getting to his feet to deposit their daughter in her crib. "Yeah, Steph. Sounds great."

"Tell my babies I love them." Then, with a giggle, she added, "And I love you too."

Sunday morning wasn't much better for Bluto or the baby, but Paul felt better equipped to handle it when he was in such a better mood. His singing was more joyous and it was easy to get Aurora distracted with it. Fair easier than it had been the day before, when he was only halfheartedly doing so.

Comparatively, Sunday was far better than Saturday. But when held up to the Sunday he could have had, if his quad hadn't blown, it was rather low on the scale.

The frequent moments where his daughter would just look at him, really look a him, and light up just from the sight reminded him that his previous statement wasn't wholly true.

There was nowhere he'd rather be than with Aurora.

Nowhere.

But at the same time, 'mania wouldn't have interfered. He and Steph would have both been super busy, sure, more busy than just a normal PPV, but he was certain that they'd still bring her along. Sure, she'd be with her nanny most of the time, but after a job well done in the largest stage on the planet, Paul would have loved to fall into the bed on their tour bus and just snuggle with the baby before bed.

Her bedtime had actually come in gone though when he found himself cuddling with the little girrl on the couch all ready for Wrestlemania to begin. She was clearly sleepy and, if she did fall asleep Paul would have no problem with letting her stay that way, but for th moment, he was more than enjoying her company.

It was helping with his nerves.

Even though he wasn't involved in any way with the events that day, the same thoughts that came to him every year did. He always hoped, whether house show or live taping, that no one was hurt or injured, but this doubled on 'mania day. It became less about others safety and more about not embarrassing the brand on it's largest viewership of the year. Paul also thought about Shawn and his match and how, if he were involved in it, what sorta things they'd be going over in the hours leading up. He thought about all the celebrations afterwards everyone had and how, in those days, he wasn't really involved in them and that sucked, but Steph was more than accommodating in other ways.

"You know," Steph had yawned the night before as their phone call came to a close, "you don't have to watch tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"If you don't want to," she specified. "You can do something else. Anything else. No one would hold it against you, you know. You could have a real off day."

"Thought I should soak in watching Wrestlemania with my kid for the one and only time?" he asked. "Isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah. But you could also use it as the only time you'll ever be off during a Wrestlemania."

This gave him pause, but only momentarily before he said, "Well, I'd hope."

"Mmmm," his wife hummed back. "We both do."

As he sat there on the couch, dog at his feet, daughter in his lap, he thought about doing something else. Putting the baby down (because she was gonna be cranky in the morning over this), play with the dog some. Go work out, skim a book, what something else.

Watch something else.

This idea bugged him the most while he eventually shifted to lying there, Aurora snoozing on his chest, observing instead of participating with his colleagues up in Michigan, and it stuck with him throughout the entire show.

It was the biggest night of the year for the company that he loved and bled for, that he was laid up at the moment for, and he actually contemplated _not_ watching it? Did he not love the WWE? Wrestling in general? That he'd pass something like that up?

And in that HD Stephanie bugged him about for that matter.

Would there have been anything more selfish than to not watch your teammates win at State because you were sidelined?

Yeah.

There was.

"I'm sorry about the past few days, baby."

"Why are you still on that?" Steph asked in that weird pitch she hit when she'd had more than enough to drink. She was back at the hotel then though, instead of out celebrating with the others, and Paul chose not to mention the obviousness of her intoxication. She'd had a long week. "it's 'mania! Or it was. Before. And-"

"All I ever think about is me," he told her as he walked around the house, cell pressed to his ear, looking to where Bluto had gotten off to. The guest room closet would be the place, where he was very happily chomping on and ripping up semi-important things kept in said closet. His father wouldn't find him though, so it was alright. "Since my injury. I-"

"Paul, is this about your injury still?" his wife cut him off. "Because, baby, you're gonna have so many more Wrestlemanias to go to and-"

"This is about how this injury has affected you too," he said. "In a lot of ways. But I don't ever consider it. I see you as keeping up on me as annoying sometimes and something I crave as others, but I never think about how it adds another layer of hectic to your life."

"If I were the one injured, would you not do the same?" she posed back and he shrugged, even though they were over the phone.

"I dunno," he sighed, poking his head into the wrong guest bedroom and therefore not finding the pooch. "Not in the way you are."

"Well, you're not me," she agreed. "You know I have to be in control of most portions of my life."

"Yeah." That one got a rather dry response. "I know."

"And it's not selfish to think of yourself in times like this, Paul."

"You called me an asshole."

"You are an asshole."

"Hey-"

"Is that not what you're going for?" she asked. "Oh, constantly?"

"Not with you." He let out a sight breath as he went downstairs to see if Bluto was anywhere around down there. If he didn't find him soon, he might to have to inform Steph about it and he did not want their nice moment being ruined by her yelling at him about her 'first baby'. Gross. "Never with you."

"I like it when you are a little bit, at least," she said. "You know."

"is that right?"

"That's right."

"If you were here right now, Stephie-"

"I'll be home sooner than you think," she was sure to include. "And when I get there, we have to, you know, ring in that post-'mania hype."

"Can we hype something neither of us participated in?"

"Just because you're killed off in the second act doesn't mean you don't get invited to the after party."

"Oh, you party now, Stephie?" Paul about sighed in relief when he heard the footsteps of Bluto coming down the stairs, not soon after he had. "Without me?"

"I might have had something to drink, yes, maybe, if you're wondering."

"What? You? Couldn't even tell."

"I wish you were here, Paul,"

This made him stand still, there in the kitchen, and blink. Then he spoke.

"Would you make me feel better?"

"Don't I always?"

Hell yeah she did. Because fine, Steph might baby him or stay in his business with no desire of leaving, but dang if his life wasn't far closer to falling apart before she was involved in it.

"Yeah." Smiling despite the fact Bluto's loud running down the stairs (and subsequent rushing around to find where on the lower floor his father was) had woken Aurora, who would once more realize her mother was not around and therefore gave her all the more reason to sob, Paul said, "You definitely do."

* * *

 **So, I've wanted to write this for awhile, that 'mania Paul missed because of his quad. I'd started it and stopped on it some time back and figured I'd get around to finishing it now. Will get back to request though, with the next one, I think.**


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